


12AM

by ladyddaeng



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Kinda, M/M, Mention of enlistment, PWP without Porn, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 05:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21502330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyddaeng/pseuds/ladyddaeng
Summary: Namjoon is always the first to call Jackson to wish him a Happy Birthday.
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Jackson Wang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 133





	12AM

**Author's Note:**

> This is for LY! Happy birthday dear! 💜💜💜💜💜💜
> 
> Also: this in un-betaed, raw, and silly.

It’s some time after midnight and Jackson is going over his schedule for the next day with his team. His phone rings, and on the caller ID he sees it’s Namjoon, he smiles and hangs up. He’ll contact him later, but he also knows Joon hates when people hang-up on him. Serves him well for always excusing himself when Jackson asks him to go out for drinks.

**Joonie**

_Pick up asshole_

_Jaskson_

_Wth_

_Asre you still mad at me?_

🙃🙄😳😱😩😭

He pockets the phone and leaves him on read.

\------------

Jackson gets home and throws his bag on the sofa, empties his pockets, and jumps in the shower. He feels weary, the day’s fatigue making his limbs ache. He lets the hot water wash over him and take away his worries for a moment. He still has work to do, but he’ll give himself half an hour to unwind.

He wraps himself up in a fresh towel and sinks into the sofa, picking up his phone. The second he unblocks it, Namjoon is calling him again.

“What’s up, man?” he picks up, kinda amused.

“Jacksoooon! Happy birthday, buddy. I’ve tried calling you a thousand times. I wanted to be the first wishing you happy birthhhss… happy birthday! But you didn’t pick up,” Namjoon is pouting, he can hear it over the phone. “Why didn’t you pick up, Jackson? Why didn’t you pick up?”

Jackson scoffs on the phone, taken aback for a moment. He honestly forgot about his birthday, he was so busy with his team, working on new music, new collaborations, and the global fashion campaigns. “Sorry man, I just... forgot. About the birthday, I mean.”

“How do you forget your birthday, noooo,” Namjoon boos him.

“I’m just too busy,” Jackson yawns, thinking about the emails he still has to answer and groaning inwardly.

“Busy busy. Busy Jackson who has no time for birthdays.”

“Are you drunk, Joon?” he asks, amused.

“Noo? I don’t think? No, I’m just. You know- I’m chillin’,” Namjoon slurred voice comes muffled for a moment, and then he’s sighing deeply.

“Are you undressing? No, don’t answer that, I don’t need that mental image. Besides, it’s not like you’re all that available either. The last sixteen times I’ve asked you to meet up for drinks you’ve always blown me off,” Jackson continues, exaggerating on purpose.

“Hey man, I’m touring. You know we are trying to put all the work in, to get as much stuff out as physically possible before enlistment,” Namjoon says apologetically.

“I know, but you could make a little time for me. I am your best bro, am I not? I want to see you, Joon. And preferably not only on koreaboo.bom,” he insists.

“I know, but-” Namjoon tries.

“No buts, I haven’t met you in months and I miss you. I need my friend, I’m in a difficult moment in my life, you know? So many doors are opening and I’m under a lot of pressure.” Jackson brushes his damp hair back and stands up to get a beer from the fridge.

“I know, but-”

“I said shut up. I’m mad at you, yeah,” he feels a kind of evil pleasure in torturing Namjoon like this, knowing he’s making him feel guilty, but also knowing this is how they express affection. There’s a moment of silence from the other end of the line. Jackson hesitates a moment, thinking he’s maybe gone too far.

“I’m sorry, Jackson. Please let me make it up to you,” Namjoon is using his begging voice.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, uncapping the bottle. “What are you offering?”

“I mean… How mad are you?” Namjoon tries.

“Pretty pissed,” he says, teasing, and lays back on the sofa, rotating his neck to relieve some of the tension there.

“Fuck, Jackson. Please, I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you when we’re both back in Seoul, ok? I’ll take you out for pizza. Extra cheese,” offers Namjoon, hopeful.

“Fuck off, you owe me more than pizza!” Jackson exclaims, mock-outraged, spluttering on the beer.

“Jackson… I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry. I swear when we come back you won’t get rid of me ever again, I’ll come live at your house, I’ll take you out for drinks, I’ll take stupid selfies with you, I’ll- I’ll go to noraebang although I hate that… Let me make it up to you. I miss you too. You know how lonely it gets with work and touring, and although I have the boys I still miss you. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you, and I’m so proud of what you are doing. Have I ever told you that?” Namjoon hiccups a little, sounding more sincere now. “I’m really fucking proud of you, man. You are doing so good, and you work so hard, you are such an inspiration for me.”

Jackson holds his breath and closes his eyes, feels a blush creeping up his neck. He’s not one to take compliments easily, usually trying to dodge them with a clever comeback. But now he’s too tired and raw from the intense day. “Shut up…” he whispers lamely.

“I watch your stories, you know? I watch your interviews and mvs, I’m so blown away by how far you have come,” Namjoon continues undaunted. “I know I’m not present in your life as much as I wish I was, but I just want you to know that. That I’m proud and that I love you.”

Jackson pushes his fingers into his eye sockets in frustration and murmurs through gritted teeth “I hate you.”

“More or less than you hate spicy food?”

“More!” Jackson grunts.

Namjoon’s laugh comes loud and cheerful through the phone. “Have I flustered you enough?”

“Be quiet!” Jackson whines.

“I do mean it, you know.”

“I know,” Jackson says quietly. “I’m sorry. It’s been a real long fucking day and I’m just super tense because of all the shit I have to do. Thank you for calling, and for the birthday wishes. You actually are the first I talk to,” he concludes, smiling.

“I know just what you need,” Namjoon pipes up and drops the call.

Jackson stares at his phone incredulously for a few seconds before it lights up again with an incoming video chat. He frowns and accepts the request to access his camera. “What are you up to, Namjoon?”

“Hi!” he exclaims, all up in the camera so Jackson only sees his mouth and dimples and light stubble. He blows a kiss and laughs. He is so endearing, Jackson laughs with him.

“Where are you? And why are you drunk on a Thursday?” he asks.

“I’m at the studio, I just came back from a dinner with the boys and Jimin forced me to do rounds of somaek with him…”

“I miss somaek,” Jackson sighs, sipping his beer.

“Well, I see you’re drinking, so cheer up! What can I do to make you feel better?” Namjoon leans back and rests his phone on something. Jackson sees he’s in a brown hoodie, platinum hair messy and cheeks flushed, surrounded by his recording equipment.

“What do you mean?”

“Does this help?” Namjoon stands up and does a silly dance, waggling his hands and hips and nearly toppling over a mic, catching it right before it falls. He looks back up, his face stricken. Jackson bursts out laughing and Namjoon follows, dropping down on his seat and holding his stomach.

“Well… well, yes, that helped a bunch. Please hyung, delight me with your dancing skills more often,” Jackson mocks him, his voice high with laughter.

“Oh fuck,” Namjoon wheezes and wipes his eyes.

“Please can you do the Dyonisius move where you wave around your big stick and act tough,” Jackson is still laughing.

“Hey! Don’t make fun of me, I’ve practiced that for a long long time!” Namjoon pouts.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jackson hides his smile behind a hand and lets his head fall against the sofa. “That really is a big stick,” he looks at the ceiling.

“It is,” Namjoon murmurs.

“Kinda, you know… phallic,” Jackson glances down and cocks one eyebrow, trying to take back the upper hand in the conversation.

“I think that’s the point,” Namjoon smirks, unrelenting.

“People will get ideas.”

“That’s ok,” Namjoon sits back in his chair and spreads his legs, comfortably and a bit cocky.

“Ah, Joon-ah,” Jackson tilts his head and smiles. “You look sexy tonight, have you dressed up for me?” He lets his voice go low, thinking he’s always been the confident one and won’t be pushed by a tipsy Namjoon.

“Yeah, my best sweats. You like?” he caresses his chest, smoothing out the cheap fabric, looking up with an exaggeratedly innocent face.

“Mh. This is quickly turning into an inappropriate call, don’t you think? Talking about your big stick and getting me all flustered,” Jackson provokes.

“Is it? You didn’t even tell me what you are wearing, I think that’s how those calls begin,” Namjoon laughs.

“Oh, right,” Jackson smiles and moves the phone farther from his face, framing his naked upper body.

“Ah,” Namjoon deadpans. Jackson flexes his arm as if by chance while stretching up and showing him his whole body. “Jackson! What the hell, put some clothes on,” he covers his face suddenly with his hands.

“Oh, stop being coy about it Joon-ah, you know you love my body,” Jackson purrs, feeling his heartbeat in his throat.

“Nope. Not true.”

“Look, I’ve been working out, at least appreciate it. Look at this leg. Look!” he insists, raising the towel to reveal his thigh, brushing up against it.

“ _Still_ not watching,” Namjoon raises his eyes to the ceiling, his ears red.

Jackson laughs loudly and slaps his leg. “You’re too easy to rile up, Joonie,” he says.

Namjoon looks affronted and then suddenly comes closer to the camera, opening his mouth in a comically wide, surprised expression. “Wait. Wait… waaait. Are you hard???” he asks, thumbing at his phone to zoom in.

“What?” Jackson exclaims, slamming his phone down on the sofa on instinct. He looks at his lap and… maybe he is. A bit.

“You so are! Who’s easily riled up now!” Namjoon laughs and immediately covers his mouth. “Oh, Jackson… what did it? My big thyrsus? Or the stained sweats? Which is it?” his voice comes out muffled from where the phone has landed on the sofa. Jackson groans. He’s not going to let him live it down, ever.

“It was just a crease in the towel!” he yells.

“Like hell it was!” Namjoon scream-laughs.

Jackson throws himself down, falling on his back on the sofa and squirming. “I’m just a healthy young man! This is normal!”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. You’re nasty!” Namjoon is still giggling from the other side.

Jackson takes a big breath in and fumbles for the phone. He will cut this short, be polite, hang up, deal with it like a motherfucking man. Which means forget all about it and act like it never, ever happened. Namjoon who? Don’t know her. “I’m tired Joon. Thanks for the birthday wishes.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Namjoon pouts. “Are you going to jerk off?” he smiles.

“N-not your damn business!” Jackson blurts out hovering on his forearms over the phone, half crouched.

“Aw, man,” Namjoon leans his elbow on the desk and lays his chin on his closed fist, eyes sparkling. “Can I watch?”

“W-what? What the fuck,” Jackson chokes.

“Come on, you wanted me to look, I’m looking,” Namjoon smiles, dimples deep. He lays back on the chair and drops his hands in his lap. Jackson follows the movement and finds himself unconsciously grinding down a little on the cushion under him. He licks his lips.

“How drunk are you exactly, Joon?” he asks, mouth dry.

“Not really drunk anymore,” he shrugs, squeezing his thighs as if to stop himself from touching more.

“How- If hypothetically, if I were to say yes, how would we do this?” Jackson asks, enchanted by Namjoon’s hands going up and down his legs.

“You could begin by taking off that towel, you’re going to rub yourself raw on the sofa otherwise,” Namjoon smiles, still uncharacteristically confident.

“Have you like, planned this? What the hell,” Jackson swears under his breath and gets up. He gulps down his beer and looks down. His boner doesn’t seem to want to go. So, what the hell, why not? It’s not like he hasn’t done this before. Maybe not with his best friend, but still.

He takes off his towel and puts it down on the sofa, getting comfortable lying against the armrest.

“Did you do it? I can’t see,” Namjoon asks eagerly.

“Yes! Fuck, calm down!” Jackson huffs and takes himself in hand, holding his breath. He props his right arm on the backrest, and slowly lowers the phone, framing his body.

“Fuck,” comes Namjoon’s voice from the phone. Jackson squeezes himself and wishes he was in his apartment to have access to his lube, he just bought a fancy one before leaving. He brings the phone up and sees that Namjoon has lifted a leg up on the chair and is palming his dick through his sweats, head back on the headrest.

“Are you going to talk dirty to me, Namjoon?” he breathes slowly, stroking himself tentatively.

“Y-your dick is very pretty,” Namjoon pants.

Jackson bursts out laughing, but he keeps on moving. This is so wrong and it’ll be so embarrassing after, but he’s too riled up to stop now. “What was that? That was pathetic,” he giggles, and throws his head back, increasing the pace. Namjoon’s moan makes him open his eyes and look at him through the screen. His hand snuck into his pants and Jackson can see it moving rhythmically under the fabric. “Shit, Joon-ah,” he whispers, a shock of arousal going right into his cock.

“You look so hot,” Namjoon murmurs under his breath, his lips slightly open. “Why… fuck, are you flexing?”

“No, I’m not,” Jackson gasps, flexing, moaning, licking his hand and going back to touch himself. Namjoon inhales sharply.

“Please stop, you’re killing me,” he says, voice rough, thighs flexing while his hips kick up from the chair.

“Why- why are you so worked up,” Jackson manages through gritted teeth, pleasure beginning to pool into his loin, the semi-dry drag delicious and slightly painful.

“Why are _you_? I barely t-teased,” Namjoon laughs. “Oh fuck, I’m close.”

Jackson loses his tempo, and he squeezes hard at the base of his dick to keep himself from coming then and there. This is ridiculous. It’s evidently been too long. Goosebumps erupt on this skin and he feels his heart beating in his ears. “You b-barely touched yourself,” he tries, chiding.

“I know, I k-know but… oh, fuck,” Jackson sees Namjoon’s hand moving furiously now, eyes closed, beautiful throat exposed and face all red. He watches in awe, breathing heavily for a few timeless moments, and then Namjoon’s hips buckle up and he lets out a long moan, his hand slowing down, panting and gasping. Jackson is frozen, so impossibly turned on but unable to move. Then, Namjoon’s eyes open and refocus, “Jackson, please… I want to see you,” his look gets intent, and he wipes his hand on his sweats.

“That’s disgusting,” Jackson says, and it startles him out of his reverie. He thumbs at the sensitive spot under his dick and he jumps slightly.

“Fuck off. Come on, I want to see you come undone.”

Jackson closes his eyes frowning and slowly touches himself up and down, squeezing hard. It only takes a couple of strokes for him to feel his arousal topple up and then he’s coming, long and hard and shaky.

For a few moments, there’s only the sound of their breaths, Jackson drops his hand holding the phone on his chest and sighs. He hears Namjoon clear his voice and feels the awkwardness creeping in.

“So. That was unexpected,” Namjoon says.

“Yeah… Kinda.”

“Uhm, happy birthday?” Namjoon tries, stiffly.

Jackson laughs and the awkwardness seems to lift a bit.

“Thank you, Joon-ah. Love you too.”


End file.
